Attracted
by reviewgirl911
Summary: Prompt: I was attracted to your beauty, but fell in love with your personality. Gabrielle Delacour (now Potter) was beautiful, to be true, but that's not why Harry Potter fell in love with her. (Dear Old Love series)


**Here's yet another installment of my Dear Old Love prompts. I like writing these because it's a nice break from my regular updates, and it helps get me interested in fanfiction again. Anyway, this one revolves around Harry and Gabrielle, a pairing I like when done correctly. Enjoy! Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. I'm just a committed member of the fandom.**

 _Prompt: I was attracted to your beauty, but fell in love with your personality._

Sometimes, when they are curled up together in bed, Gabrielle asks why he fell in love with her. Her head rests on Harry's chest as she asks, his steady heartbeat vibrating through her skull. She loves quiet nights like this, nights when she doesn't have to work 48 hour shifts at St. Mungo's and he isn't off chasing Dark wizards, nights when they could just snuggle up together with some Muggle program on the TV.

Harry's hand, which had been gently massaging circles into her shoulder, halts. His head turns to look at her, his tired green eyes questioning. "Why do you ask?" Gabrielle shrugs her shoulders slightly, reveling in the in the warmth of her boyfriend's chest.

"No reason," she says, tracing his scars with her fingers. He had so many of them, from the war and from his relatives. In the beginning of their relationship, he flinched away from her touching them. He had kept them hidden for so long under his clothes and the occasional glamour, carrying them around as something he was ashamed off. He used to try to keep her away from them, but she simply pressed light kisses on the scarred tissue on his chest. She told him that she loved him, all of him, even the parts he didn't want her to. He didn't mind her touching them after that.

Harry runs his fingers through her curls. Gabrielle starts to drift off, only popping back into consciousness when he begins to answer her question.

"I remember the night we met again after the war. Fleur had been bugging me about coming to Victoire's birthday party, and Teddy really wanted me to come with him so I did. I was working too hard and drinking too much when I had the time so I think she really just wanted to keep an eye out on me. I guess she thought I wasn't much good at taking care of myself." He laughs a little bitterly. "She was probably right. After the war, I was so lost and so unhappy, and it felt like I burned everything I touch. Only Hermione and Fleur were really able to put up with me at that point. I was in hell, and then I Flooed into Shell Cottage's kitchen and saw an angel sitting at the table, as cheesy as that sounds."

Gabrielle smiles, remembering Harry's shock that night at her appearance. He hadn't known that she had actually been his age at the Tournament, but the Veela aged differently than normal wizards. She looked like a child until she hit her Veela maturity, which she did shortly after the Tournament ended.

"So you fell in love with my beauty?" she asks quietly, a little disappointed but not surprised. Veela ancestry guaranteed Gabrielle would be beautiful her whole life, and it isn't uncommon for men to notice that first.

She looks away from her husband, but he holds his chin gently with his calloused fingers.

"No, I was attracted to your beauty," he says gently, "but I fell in love with your personality. I fell in love with the women who was so persistent in being my friend even when I acted like an asshole, who wasn't afraid to yell at me and tell me I was throwing my life away when I tried to drink myself to death. I fell in love with your stubbornness and your humor and the way you always treat me like a person and not a hero. I fell in love with the way you just laughed when it rained on our wedding day and twirled around in it."

Harry kisses her gently on the lips, lingering a moment before whispering, "I am in love with you, all of you, and don't you ever doubt it."

Gabrielle pulls him closer to her. "I love you too," she replies, curling up beside her husband.

Harry grins at her, a boyish grin that makes him look years younger than he usually does. At twenty-five, he usually looks at least thirty, but now he looks like the young man he is. "Why?"

Gabrielle just chucks a pillow at him. "You're incorrigible, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugs. "You're stuck with me, I guess."

Gabrielle beams. "I guess so."

She never asks him that question again, but he tells her the answer almost every night anyway. All is good in their world.


End file.
